And So It Goes
by lexabelle
Summary: When The Lightman Group undercover agent Lucy Penfold needs to recover after an assignment, she always returns to the man who got her into this life in the first place, and Dr. Cal Lightman will always let her in.


I do not own "Lie to Me" or its characters, it is all owned by Fox and I make no money off of these writings. I'm just happy to play in its world.

I couldn't think of a character I could see Cal acting like this with, so I made one up. Part of a larger AU reality I'll be writing over the summer hiatus.

Enojy!

Cal awoke at some point during the night, or possibly the very early morning. After a few seconds of alertness, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of his bed. Standing up, he rubbed a hand over his face and padded barefoot out of his room. He was disturbed and his heart began pounding at what he _wasn't_ hearing, strangely. Lucy had only been in her post-assignment 'detox' mode for about eight hours. She usually cried on and off for at least the first twelve hours, he reasoned, and that he couldn't hear that at all worried him. Lucy was unpredictable in many things, but her detox always remained the same – shock and disbelief, followed by sobbing, tapering to crying and sniffling, then a day or so of sleep, a week of nightmares while she accepted and processed what she'd been through. The lack of sobbing scared him into thinking that something had happened to her, or that maybe she had finally had enough and done something to herself.

Members of the staff at The Lightman Group wondered, either to themselves or out loud to his face, why he continually housed Lucy after her assignments. Cal didn't really have a concrete verbal answer to this besides this was the way it had always been. He had taken her in during the darkness and depression following her very first assignment she was sent on for The Lightman Group, and from there she had always stayed with Cal for a few days after she returned. Lucy needed somewhere to go and Cal had the space to offer. Emily, Cal's fifteen year old daughter who was currently staying with her mother, had luckily never needed to stay with him when Lucy was there. There was nothing sexual about his relationship with Lucy anymore – they learned a long time ago that anything romantic between them was destructive to both parties – so there was nothing technically 'wrong' with her being there. It was guilt, plain and simple. Cal felt guilty for being partially responsible for Lucy's job, and every time she came back from assignment and sobbed, trying to wrap her mind around whatever horrors she had experienced, he felt guilty.

He walked through his familiar halls of his house in the darkness, hoping he would happen upon Lucy in one room or another. The house was hers to roam as she detoxed, as it always had been. Cal knew that Emily was staying with her Mum for sure this time – Emily had come face to face with a normally detoxing Lucy once before and while she had handled it admirably, Cal knew that Emily might not be mature enough to deal with Lucy this time. He had made sure Emily understood not to come to the house without telling him beforehand for the next few days.

Six months, Cal grimaced at the memory. Lucy had been used and abused at the hands of the Citadel Sect for six months, gathering states evidence against the so-called 'Spiritual Leaders' and their wrong doings. You had to give her credit, never once did she break. Lucy never did. That was her gift – adaptability, acting and her deep-set belief that she was helping people who could not help themselves.

Cal flipped a light on in the kitchen and upon not finding Lucy he went into the darkened dining room. Reflected light from the kitchen light illuminated out into the living room where a figure sat on the couch, staring at the turned off television set. Cal's heartbeat slowed when he saw Lucy turn her head slightly in his direction.

Cautiously Cal walked over to the couch. "Mind if I sit down?" he asked casually, trying to get a look at Lucy's face to prepare him for what he would be dealing with. Usually there was pain, grief, sadness but Cal was shocked to see a look of resignation on Lucy's face. This was new and Cal wasn't sure what to make of this.

"It's your couch," Lucy half shrugged. She tried to make it sound light and joking, but it just came across sounding as broken hearted and exhausted as she felt. Lucy was in her thirties, but slumped on the couch and wearing pajamas that were now a couple of sizes too big for her, she looked much younger and fragile.

Cal knew that gentle and easy were the name of the game right now. This was something that Doctor Foster was much better suited for but thankfully Cal had many years of being a loving father to Emily to fall back on when needed. "Do you want to talk about it?" He asked and braced himself for her answer. Sometimes a simple inquiry was all Lucy needed to open up and properly start dealing with all she had been through on her assignments. Sometimes though, it opened the floodgates of hell whereupon Lucy would damn everyone and everything for hours on end. At times like this she truly was like a box of chocolates – you literally never knew what you were going to get.

Lucy sighed and remained silent, Cal's eyes never leaving her face, looking for any sign of change in her demeanor. Her expression held up the mask of resignation and showed not so much as a flicker of anything else. Cal turned on the couch so he was angled towards Lucy, tucking a leg up under himself with one elbow propped up on the top of the couch, hands clasped out in front of him.

"Stop analyzing me," Lucy said.

"That's like asking a pool to stop being so damn wet," Cal inwardly groaned at his sorry attempt at humour but Lucy let out an almost imperceptible snort and the corners of her mouth rose and fell within a millisecond. A tiny laugh. It was a start.

"I don't think I can talk about it yet," Lucy said haltingly.

Cal nodded. "That's fine."

They sat in silence for a few minutes – Lucy lost in her thoughts, Cal waiting for Lucy to speak again, which she did after a few moments.

"I can understand a lot, Cal. I've seen a lot, I've read about even more but…I still can't understand how…_that_…happens."

Lucy almost tripped over her words, they were suddenly coming from her mouth so quickly. "I've been alone for a long time. I've _felt_ alone for a long time. Not once have I ever thought that something like _that_ would make me feel better. That wasn't living. That was slavery," she looked up slightly, changing her line of vision. "How can anyone willingly go along with that? And they did, technically. No one was kidnapped. You could come in freely. It was the getting out that was not possible. But no one…_no one_…wanted to leave. They were treated like less than human and…and they were all OK with it."

"You're not supposed to understand it, Lucy. Some things are just too complex to understand. I don't think I'd want to be able to understand what happened, to be honest."

Lucy offered another tiny smile, but this one was tinged with a slight snarl, the left side of her upper lip rising towards her cheek. "_I_ need to understand, Cal. It's for me."

Cal had nothing he could say to this. Lucy was very smart, proficient in the study of interpersonal communications and a wonderful 'shadow agent', but she always needed _more_. She was always trying to understand the why behind the what, when so often in her job understanding the why was too foreign a concept for anyone to understand.

"I need you to break me, Cal."

Jarred from the sudden change of topic and the choice of words Lucy used, Cal's head shot up in surprise. "Break you, Lucy?" he asked, trying to regain his sense of composure.

"I need to be jolted into starting to deal with this. I'm still in neutral. I'm sorry to ask, but I need you to touch me."

Again trying to use humour to try and coax more out of Lucy, Cal gamely ventured with a wry smile, "Lucy, you never have to _ask_ me to touch you-"

"No. I need you to…" Lucy hesitated, her mind groping for a more correct adjective to use to describe to Cal what she needed. "I need you to…gently? Wait…like, lovingly touch me. Stroke my arm or face. Something very gentle. That should break me down," Lucy was nodding, but this resembling more of a nervous twitch than an agreeable nod. Cal noted how Lucy became rigid as she spoke of the gentle gestures. She was preparing herself for what was going to happen to her.

It was not unusual for Cal to think that these times when Lucy had to 'get over' her assignments were worse than anything that ever happened to her during the assignments themselves. It was a heart wrenching process to watch and he would always help Lucy in any way he could but this was a new concept for him. He had never had to participate in _forcing_ Lucy to break down. This was uncharted territory and Cal wasn't sure if he wanted any part of it.

"Are you sure that's what you need?" Cal asked, almost nervously.

"Yes," Lucy pressed. "I haven't even begun to process this yet, and I need to. I need a jump start," she gritted her teeth, eyes blazing as she stared right in front of her and tried to speak as a professor would recite facts to students. "The sexual abuse was the worst part of the assignment, so anything that evokes a physical memory of that should make everything snap into place in my mind. Please. You're the only one I can ask," she darted a fleeting look in Cal's direction, "You're the only one who will be able to defend himself if I really snap."

Rubbing a hand over his face for the second time that night, Cal sighed and looked at Lucy's profile. "Well, now, _that_ is an offer I just can't refuse."

After a few seconds, Cal readjusted himself on the couch and somewhat tentatively inched his left hand over to where Lucy's left hand was resting on the couch. He let the tips of his fingers just barely bumping against the side of her hand, and she did not seem to react to this. He let his pinky finger trail over her pinky finger, resting his on top of hers while he saw her quick intake of breath. This was something they had done before on numerous occasions, including the last time they had worked on a case together – the Nate Uronick case. It was the tiniest of gestures, almost imperceptible to anyone else who might be looking, but a way they had developed to let the other know that they were there for each other. It was their grounding force. Cal paused, looking at Lucy. Lucy looked over at him and met his eyes for the first time since he'd sat beside her, tears in her eyes. "Keep going," she said.

Cal linked his pinky with Lucy's as the first tear fell. Her breathing was fast becoming rapid and erratic.

"D'you want me to stop…?" Cal asked softly, his eyes raised to her face. Lucy shook her head rapidly – she did indeed want him to stop but refused to let the waves of fear and panic she was now starting to feel stop her. She would force herself to deal with this one way or the other. Cal let his hand drift overtop of Lucy's, fingertips brushing the back of her hand. Lucy's jaw set in grim determination, Cal could see the panic rising in her eyes and he hesitated for a moment.

"Keep. Going." Lucy ordered between gritted teeth.

The fingers of Cal's left hand trailed up Lucy's left arm, evoking gooseflesh and a shudder from Lucy. He let his fingers slowly trace their path up and down Lucy's arm a few time before he stopped. He edged closed to Lucy on the couch, Lucy pulled her hands into her lap, clasping them together. She had sucked her lips into her mouth and was biting them from the inside, her eyebrows were pulled together and down towards her nose, eyes squeezed shut – Lucy had left determination and panic behind and had moved completely into panic and fear.

Taking a deep breath, Cal put his left hand on top of Lucy's hands in her lap, and reached his right hand out to cup her the left side of her face, just under her jaw. When his hand met her face, she muffled her own scream and whimpered a few times. Cal knew this was all a part of what Lucy needed to do to cope with her time at the Citadel Sect but it still felt inherently wrong to him. For the most part, men did not like to make women scared to the point of tears when they touched them. Taking a deep steadying breath, he began to stroke her cheek with his thumb.

Suddenly Lucy jumped up and ran into the kitchen, Cal following behind her. Before he could even reach the kitchen he heard Lucy retching and heaving into the kitchen sink. Cal entered the kitchen and reached out to put a hand on her back, to do something to comfort her, but though twice about that upon remember that being touched is what put Lucy into this state in the first place. He sat down on the tile floor, back against the lower cabinets, and waited. After a few minutes a much paler and sweatier Lucy shakily sat down next to him. "Well, that's a start I guess," she confessed, joking very weakly.

"I think you've ruined me for other women, Lucy. I'll never be able to touch anyone ever again after that," Cal offered.

Lucy mulled over this for a moment. "Nah. Somehow you'll use this as a pick up line," Lucy closed her eyes, resting her head against the cabinets, trying to regulate her breathing.

"You're very strong, Lucy. You're doing fine," positive reinforcements had always work for him in the past when dealing with girls who threw up around him, why should this be any different?

Sometime old habits die hard.

"If they hadn't gotten what they needed and pulled me out within the next two weeks, I was going to request extraction."

This information commanded Cal's attention. Lucy had never requested early extraction no matter what the circumstances. "May I ask why?"

Lucy's eyes darted left and right, she bit the inside of her cheek, nose scrunching up, cheeks raised and brows closing together slightly.

"Tell me," Cal encouraged.

Lucy opened her eyes, rolled her head around and looked directly at Cal. She examined his eyes for a minute, taking in the hazel orbs looking back at her. She inhaled, exhaled, and smiled a false smile.

"I'm pregnant, Cal."

Her false smile faltered, she sucked her lips in again and her mouth trembled. She tore her eyes away from Cal's and stared out in front of her once more, as if looking into the unknown future before her, or possibly the horrific past behind her. "One of those _bastards_," she said, voice breaking, "got me pregnant."

Cal wanted to give her a hug, to pull her into his arms and try to comfort her but again, he could not be sure it wouldn't set her into a frenzy, so as the tears began to fall down Lucy's face he put his hand on top of hers. She was the one to intertwine her fingers with Cal's and squeeze his hand. He looked over at her but she did not return his gaze, it was just too much for her right then. He would hold her hand and wait for her to let him in. As always.

He looked out in front of him, trying to see what Lucy saw.

There they sat, on the cold tile floor.


End file.
